


PrimeQuest: The Vision

by MatrixOfWumbo



Series: Earthfall Universe [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Dreams, Gen, Giant Robots, Movie Night, Pre-Earth Transformers, Prophetic Visions, Taverns, Wartime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-09-23 17:24:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17084528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatrixOfWumbo/pseuds/MatrixOfWumbo
Summary: Caminus. During the Great Expansion period of the Cybertronian Civil War the Autobots reconnected with the distant colony to establish a spaceport, and a safe haven among the stars for the embattled faction. Caminus remains the vibrant heart of the Autobot fleet even in such dark times as the disappearance of Optimus Prime...





	1. Chapter 1

Windblade's chronometer went off before the sun rose. She liked the dawn, when Port Solare was still quiet. It didn't take long for the soldiers to start making their noise.  
  
She glided over the rows of warships in the port below. The ships would look regal in their shining finishes and swooping banners if not for the building they sat beneath.  
  
The builders of Port Solare made sure the Temple of the Way would be the first thing Caminus' sun touched every morning in its climb over the high cliffs around the city, a golden arc of fire in the dawn sky topping a dizzying flight of stairs from the docks below. The climb was mainly ceremonial. Most of the Camiens who tended to the grounds were fliers like Windblade, or took the more recently-installed elevators up.  
  
Glass and metal fractals splintered the sunrise into reds and golds across the temple terrace. This was perhaps the most sacred spot on the planet, where the Camiens upheld the Way of Flame. At each new settlement the colonists forged on the planet they had come to call home, a temple to the fires that once lit Solus Prime's forge was built, and a Speaker was ordained to tend to the flames there. But Port Solare was where the overseer of all Speakers, the Mistress of Flame, made her home. Windblade served at her pleasure as the Speaker of the city, a great honor among her kind.  
  
A tall bot draped in Orange cloths (a strange custom amongst Cybertronians, even Camiens) came out to greet the Speaker as she landed.  
  
"Good morning Windblade. Great Solus shines especially fair today."  
  
"We can extend a blessing for the recent spate of good weather Mistress. The flame doesn't have the same glow under cloudy skies."  
  
The Mistress beckoned her under the awning of the temple. Here the Mistress and her Speaker would take inquiries from the citizens, and pass judgement in civil cases. It was also where the temple fire burned on its pyre, connecting Solare with the Titan in the center of the colony and the devout with the Allspark.  
  
The morning passed without much incident, until a short, stout bot in red and black came up the elevator. She was visibly fuming, both in her apparent anger and from the ports in her shoulders.  
  
“I’ve had it Mistress! I’ve kept quiet for cycles, but my respect only goes so far!”  
  
The Mistress smiled patiently, and beckoned for one of the priestesses watching nervously from the corner to get their guest a drink. “Please, tell me your name, and what grieves you so.”  
  
“Cassiopeia, ma’am. Friends call me Cassi. I run an organic curio shop on Red Wharf. But the Autobots are driving me up the wall! They come around hopped up on Kremzeek or whatever swill the Express gives them and cause trouble! Lobbing with the sanitation bins, hanging off the lampposts, and today – hoo boy – today I arrived at work to find a broken window and a jet-ski passed out in the center of my store! He had apparently gotten into a fight with one of his mates – quite a throwing arm I suppose – and decided my display of Jovian Cutlery was a fine place to sleep it off. I had half a mind to go get my old cannon in the back room and show him a thing or two! Do you know how many stellar cycles I spent getting –”  
  
“Alright, alright settle now. Drink and be at peace.” The mistress sipped from the blue liquid in her glass, and Cassiopeia did the same. “This is indeed troubling news. The Autobots are our guests, and I expect them to behave that way.”  
  
“That’s just it ma’am. When the Autobots brought their war here they had a Prime on their side. It made sense to give ‘em safe harbor. Now that their leader is dead, it seems like they’re just a bunch of thugs drinking our liquor.”  
  
Windblade spotted a flicker of darkness behind the Mistress’ eyes, but the High Priestess didn’t move a servo.  
  
“I’m sorry you feel that way Cassi. But I have not yet changed my decision to let the Autobots stay here. For all the chaos this war has brought us, the soldiers have helped us expand our trade markets, among other things. Still, I understand your anger. This will need to be dealt with. Windblade?”  
  
The Speaker had busied herself with the flame, trying to stay out of their conversation. “Yes, Mistress?”  
  
“I do believe it is nearly time for your afternoon break. Why not leave early and see if you can’t find out more about our interloping jet-ski and friends?”  
  
Windblade nodded. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you get a lot of runoff from the Express? I know Midnight from school, I can see what he has to say.”  
  
Cassiopeia grunted and looked down, but nodded back. “That would be a good start. Thank you, Speaker.”

* * *

 

Windblade tried not to make to hasty a display of leaving the temple interior. Once she was sure no one could see her she took a running dive off the terrace and converted to jet mode, peeling through the afternoon air to the sea below. She landed in the middle of a busy street in the Wharves. Soldiers ambled about, shoulder to shoulder with Camiens (some riding on the bigger soldiers’ shoulders with gleeful looks on their faces). Everyone was loud and boisterous. It seemed more like a war had just ended than like one was currently going on.  
  
It had been nearly a year since the Autobots lost their leader, but in this sector hundreds of soldiers were still lounging around without orders. As much as the Camiens of Port Solare enjoyed the new atmosphere, many of the other Speakers in the colony thought the Autobots were of no use to Caminus now that the Matrix was lost to them. Cassi was evidence that something would have to change soon. Yet still the Mistress allowed them to remain, for whatever reason. Windblade was keeping quiet about her feelings.  
  
A small group of Camiens spotted her in the street and ran over to greet her. Being Speaker lent her a degree of celebrity in the port. There were many smiling faces to be found, thanking her for the work she did for the colony. Windblade would smile back and sheepishly excuse herself. She wasn’t sure she deserved all the praise. The truth was, while she worked up high in her golden temple, down here was where she felt closest to Caminus, to the Flame she believed in. The battle the Autobots were fighting seemed like an important one, and if the Camiens could help their brothers and sisters fight it, what should stop them?  
  
At length, her walk through the Wharves brought her to a large cylindrical building, ripped out of the Titan Caminus’ old pneumatic transport network. Her friend had always been teased in school for his name, told it sounded more like a hole in the wall restaurant than a robot. This was his way of telling them off.  
  
A tall bot with broad shoulders appeared in the doorway, a tray of Nightmare Fuels frothing rust-red in one hand. He lit up when he saw her. “WINDBLADE! It’s been too long! Welcome back to the Midnight Express!”


	2. Chapter 2

"Grab a seat by the bar, I'll fix you something to drink!" Midnight motioned to the bar spanning the entire length of the tube as he hurried over to a table of Nebulans waiting for their drinks.  
  
Windblade tried to come visit more often, but her duties as Speaker got in the way. It really was a nice space, dark but not close, lived in but not seedy. Midnight was not the sort to cross, so the disreputable drank elsewhere or were swiftly shown the door.  
  
The bar skirted the Wharves and the Organic Quarter, so the crowd was diverse. Off-world traders didn't like coming into the city now that the Autobots lived there, but the soldiers helped build a new section of the port to accommodate the new wave of technophobia sweeping the galaxy as Megatron's message of cyber-supremacy made the rounds. The Nebulans drinking in the center of the dining area shared the space with fellow Camiens, but also a brood of Vorathi sipping from pink vials on the ceiling, a lone Rock Lord dozing in the corner, and other colorful patrons. There were soldiers here too. A lanky orange bot with a power shovel on his shoulder chatted up a giggly forklift, a duobot pair was competing to see who could fit the most bar nuts in his mouth. There was also a black and orange bot slumped over the bar a few stools down from Windblade, a pile of glasses in front of him.  
  
Midnight had reached the other side of the bar while Windblade was staring at the bot. "I take it you'll be skipping the hard stuff while you're on the clock. I have some unleaded down here somewhere..."  
  
"That would be wonderful Midnight. It looks like business is booming."  
  
"The Autobots sure know how to drink. The Nebulans put away Nightmare Fuel like it's going out of style too, now that you mention it. It's good to see you girlie."  
  
Windblade laughed, "I've missed our movie nights! I wish I was here to chat, but the Mistress sent me here on inquiry."  
  
"I hope this isn't about my license to serve that Bloodmoon Brandy again."  
  
"No, no. One of the business owners down the way had a problem with two Autobot drunkards last night, an Aquabot and a big guy. Throw anyone out like that?"  
  
"Rings a bell. They were getting at it with one another, the little guy was trying to welch on a bet over some kinda kraata race. Not sure what attachment they came from, if you're looking to throw the cuffs on."  
  
"Those clowns? Eh they're witha 6th Maritime. Or the 7th. Wunna those."  
  
The slurring came from the bot Windblade had noticed at the bar. He was sitting upright now, staring at, or maybe through, Windblade and Midnight Express.  
  
"Are you... with the fleet?" The Speaker asked.  
  
"Boy is that a question. I think they left me here to rot. Somethin' 'bout - oof - somethin' 'bout 'emotional distress.' Buncha scrap, you ask me."  
  
"I'm sorry to have bothered you."  
  
"Don't you apologize! It's bastards like them two that are givin' us Autobots a bad name. Fightin', breakin' stuff... If Optimus were still around he'd about die all over again. I knew him, you know. I was right by his side, fightin' the fight, you know?"  
  
"Trailcutter, I think you've had enough," Midnight interjected. "Why don't you get going?"  
  
"Yeah I'm going. Straight to the 7th's ship to snap some sense into those losers!" As he said this he snapped his fingers, and an amber sphere half-heartedly flickered at the tip. He rather abruptly got up and staggered out the door.  
  
Midnight sighed when he had gone.  
  
"Poor guy. Trailcutter's unit came in on leave an astral cycle ago. The fleet admiral, some blue sod with a chin the size of a few moons I know, decided not to tell them about the Prime's death until the tour ended. Thought it would keep morale up. Looks like it's going great so far."  
  
"Do you think he really knew the Prime?"  
  
"He's taking it harder than a lot of bots 'round here. Digging hard for solace at the bottom of a bottle. If he didn't know Prime, he must have lost somebody on that ship of his."  
  
"Well, I guess I can see if he finds my jet ski. Thanks for the help Midnight."  
  
"Stay and finish your drink at least?"  
  
With a full tank, she glided off again. There was still enough time in her break to visit another friend, if she was back in port yet.

* * *

  
  
Caminus' oceans teemed with creatures of all shapes and sizes. The colonists couldn't do anything with them of course, but organic traders paid top dollar for fresh hauls. So some Camiens made a living fishing for offworld export. Windblade's best friend Chromia was one such Camien. The Speaker spotted her ship, the  _Silver Scabbard_ , from the air.  
  
"Nacelle, watch where you're swinging that! Get the product on ice; stat people, we're burning daylight!" Chromia spotted a flash of red above her.  
  
"Moonracer, take charge of unloading, I won't be a minute."  
  
The two met in Chromia's quarters on board. Windblade told Chromia about the day's adventure in the bar. "Sounds like you have a professional on the case then," Chromia laughed when she heard about Trailcutter. "What a mess those Autobots are becoming without the Matrix to guide them."  
  
"Do you ever want to do what they do?" Windblade asked.  
  
"Go out and die for your homeland? I mean I could think of worse ways to go, but I'm perfectly fine risking my neck on a boat. At least you could fly away if you took a rogue wave."  
  
"No not that. Not really I mean. Do you ever want to get out and see the universe? You sail all over Caminus with the  _Scabbard_ , but when was the last time you got offworld?"  
  
"That was a long time ago. I imagine the universe has changed a lot since I was a part of it. More dangerous for sure with Decepticon War Worlds zooming around. What about you? Are you getting bored watching the flames all day?"  
  
"I love my job Chromia, but... I think I need reconnecting. The flame and I are one, but everything beyond that is fuzzy when it should be clear. I want to go out and see the universe, not just feel it."  
  
"Maybe the Mistress could give you some time off? Let you clear your head."  
  
"I could never just up and leave. What would it look like, with my position? People think I have the best job in the colony."  
  
"Hn. As long as you know what you're doing. I'm just an old sea hand. The sun's getting high, I think you need to get back for midday rites."  
  
"Oh my gosh, you're right! Thanks for listening, Chromia!" Windblade transformed and jetted off for the high temple once again.

* * *

  
  
The next two days went by without issue. She got up, went to the temple, carried out her duties, and went home at sunset. On the third day however, some commotion reached the Mistress's Chambers from down below. Windblade was alarmed to see the bot from the bar, Trailcutter, arrive at the temple, two large force fields in tow. Each field housed one fuming Autobot, a huge one with an arm cannon, and a small one with skifs on his legs.  
  
"Honorable Mistress of Flame, I present to you two troublemakers I apprehended last night." He stood tall and saluted, "I leave them to face your justice!"  
  
The Mistress looked amused. "Are these our window breakers from the other day? You have been... busy. This is a great help to the city. Your force fields are quite a boon. You have my thanks, Autobot...?"  
  
"No need to introduce myself, I'm just doing my duty. Now, if you excuse me, I must be going," he said turning and heading for the door at a fast pace. Windblade rushed after him.  
  
"Sir! It's Trailcutter, right?"  
  
He paused, grabbing his head. "Yeah. That's about right. Could you keep it down? I feel like I have a Dynobot sitting on my brain module."  
  
"That was an amazing thing you did. I... didn't really think you were serious that night. You were pretty out of it."  
  
"I may have looked... and sounded... and have been... staggeringly drunk, but I still knew the Autobot code, and those two? They ain't it."  
  
"So was everything you said true? Did you know the Last Prime?"  
  
"Heh. Yeah, I knew Optimus. I'm not one of those guys who knew him from before he was Prime, but I fought with his unit on Cybertron. I even served on board the  _Ark_  for a while. That coulda been me on board..."  
  
"What was he like? I've never actually, you know, heard him. I was away on business when he came to the Port. The news here was all about the Matrix, but I would catch snippets of his speeches here and there, the inspirational words, the stories his followers would tell. The adventures they went on. Is it all really like that?"  
  
The soldier chuckled. "He wasn't that much different in private from in person. Look up an old disc or two of him. That sappy inspirational scrap was all off the cuff. It's one of the things we admired about him."  
  
"I might just do that. Thank you, again, for bringing those two in."  
  
"Bah, was nothin'. You ever hear about more glitchheads like those two, you come find me at the Express."  
  
On her break that day, Windblade gave Midnight Express a call. "Would you mind closing early tonight Midnight? I have an idea for a Movie Night."


	3. Chapter 3

The vaulted ceiling of the Midnight Express made for an excellent projector screen. After work that day Windblade stopped at the Port Solare Archives to collect the night's subjects. She carried boxes of data discs dating back to DD 50, a lot of them credited to a "Blaster of Iacon." She had searched for anything she could find that had Optimus Prime in it.  
  
Midnight was fixing the energon goodies, while a young bot was working on the projector. That was Nautica, a first year student when Windblade and Midnight were graduating from school. She was interviewing Midnight for an oration on "Situational Monoformers" and hung around to watch what Windblade had brought.  
  
Some of the videos were speeches, the typical "Freedom for all sentient beings" stuff. There were a number of unfamiliar place names brought up. One was in the wake of a battle at "Simanzi" Windblade couldn't find any more information on. At one point Nautica leaned forward and pointed at the Prime's chest.  
  
"There! See that light? That's it!"  
  
"The Matrix of Leadership," Midnight muttered. The power of the Primes."  
  
"What do you think it  _is_ , really?" Nautica asked no one in particular, "I mean, it's clearly some sort of ancient battery or power cell, but what's the delivery system? I bet it's a focusing crystal, controlled by sheer mind-power! The old Primes could hoist it over their heads and shoot lasers! Pew Pew!"  
  
"Don't be daft Nautica! That's a vessel of sacred power, not some fancy laser pistol! Besides, the laser sounds would be much deeper, less a "pew" and more a "SPOOM."  
  
Windblade wasn't concentrating on their antics. A new video was on the screen, showing footage from the war.  
  
It wasn't Cybertron. This was some alien world, a wide desert stained orange by triple sunsets. A line of Autobots trudged through the sands carrying their wounded; dust-caked, bled dry, and grimacing in the driving wind. At the side of the motley cavalcade was Optimus Prime, a hooded shroud across his shoulders. He was observing a small yellow bot on one of the cots while a white and red medic tended to his wounds.  
  
Now Optimus Prime leapt into a fierce purple inferno wielding an axe (Nautica thought it looked like a giant mouth, but the video quality wasn't very good).  
  
Now Optimus Prime, a bot Windblade recognized as his cohort Ironhide, and a burly green bot foisted up a flag bearing the Autobot Insignia over a burning cityscape.  
  
Now Optimus Prime stood in front of a large orange spacecraft, the  _Ark_  that he and his crew would eventually go down with. "Our home is dying. To spare it any further harm we must leave Cybertron. Already war is being waged across the stars. With hope we will be able to return to this planet one day. Until then, I leave Iacon under the protection of Omega Supreme, our last line of defense."  
  
It went on like this for some time, clip after clip.  
  
Midnight sighed. "He seemed like a good bloke. Makes you think, if a spark like that could get snuffed in this war, what can we do against it?"  
  
Windblade spoke for the first time in a while. "There hasn't been war on Caminus in centuries, and there hasn't been a war like... this since all the colonies were one on Cybertron. The Mistress is hoping that the Autobots camping here will keep it that way."  
  
The last film she had was of a battle on Cybertron. There were thousands of troops running through the streets (this was dead in the center of the war) and Blaster's diminutive cameraman had to continuously dodge errant rifle fire. They were rushing to get to the second floor of a building above the chaos. On a bridge yet another story up two figures were locked in combat. One had a familiar orange battle axe, the other a grisly purple mace.  
  
"Megatron. He's fighting Megatron!" Nautica called out. "I've heard the soldiers say he was a gladiator, that he ripped out the sparks of two Primes with his bare hands."  
  
"I wouldn't believe everything you've heard from the soldiers Nautica. I'm the one who serves them drinks."  
  
And as the disc ran down Blaster's unit prepared to enter the fray themselves, switching from war photography to just plain war. The three bots in the bar decided that was enough for one night. But as they powered down for the evening, Windblade began to dream. And perhaps it was the energon, too high yield for the lateness of the hour. Perhaps it was far too many hours spent focusing on the wartime videos. Perhaps it was even the timbre of the Last Prime's world-worn voice echoing from the past within her shell. But her dreams were more vivid than anything she had ever experienced.  
  
_She floated in a sea of cool blue flames. She heard a voice, vast and rich and enveloping, but she couldn't make out what it said. Then suddenly she was falling, stars and moons flying past her at an impossible speed. A planet, or asteroid, thrumming with red light whizzed past, then an orb of mottled green, now a vast purple sphere rushing to meet her head on, only to shatter like crystal at her touch. Then finally she slowed at a planet nestled in an aura of sapphire. A star was hurtling towards the planet, a bright tail trailing behind it. Then the universe spun behind her eyes and everything went black.  
  
She perceived many sets of eyes on her, huge eyes belonging to huge bodies. Titans! Walking cities from the ancient past. They stood in a circle around the Speaker and opened up their chests to her, revealing blinding white lights. The lights converged into one, and she was back at the comet, now much larger, much closer. She sensed something within the starburst as it screamed towards the ground, and reached for it. It was a person, spark visibly pulsing inside their frame. The whole of their body was coated in a rough, orelike cocoon. She touched the descending form, and the light dissipated all at once.   
  
The two robots now silently descended towards a mountain of fire. The molten core caught them softly, silently, heatless as they impacted, and the sleeping bot now opened its eyes. As Windblade sank unfeeling into the fiery stew it crawled forth, shaking free from its shell. He turned to look at her as she was swallowed, and she knew the face.  
  
Under the magma was a hallway, and here was Windblade's dream more imperceptible from reality than ever before. The hallway was lined with pods, each one containing a sleeping robot. And in front of her, slumbering once again, was the bot she had seen above. It could be no other. Optimus Prime. A light burned within the Prime's chest. He was alive! He was.... alive. That's what the voice was telling her. She felt herself being pulled up and out of the world, over a landscape of tall buildings with Autobot flags. Then it was nothing but stars. A bolt of red lightning crashed across all of creation, and she was awake. _  
  
Windblade looked around. The bar was silent. Midnight and Nautica were still asleep. It was as if nothing had happened. As she lay back down, she thought she heard a voice whisper " _go_ " across the wind.


	4. Chapter 4

Midnight Express jostled Windblade out of Stasis in the morning. The sun was already peaking in. "Didn't want you to be late for work, lass."  
  
"Midnight! Did... anything odd happen last night?"  
  
"Happen? Like what?"  
  
 _Like a cosmic lightning storm and a volcano full of dead Autobots_  was what she thought.  
  
"Oh nothing, I think something I drank disagreed with me last night," was what she said.  
  
She thanked her host again, called a quick farewell to a still-groggy Nautica, and flew off.  
  
To Windblade's dismay, the Mistress of Flame was expecting her when she landed at the temple, a Stern expression on her face.  
  
"You are late. That's unlike you Windblade. What is the meaning of this?"  
  
Windblade was taken aback by this sudden change of character. "My sincerest apologies Mistress. Last night I had an uncommonly fitful recharge cycle. I thought I may have fallen ill."  
  
The Mistress's face softened.  
  
"So then you felt it too. Come with me."  
  
A confused Windblade followed the Mistress into the temple and through a doorway behind her throne. Down they went into the cliffside and finally into the inner Sanctum of the Way. The dim light played across the carved gold walls of the room, where the Mistress now began to speak.  
  
"This morning I received word from a number of Speakers and other priestesses about seeing strange things in their dreams last night. Swirling colors, garbled whispers, shooting stars."  
  
"There were others? Did they receive the same message?"  
  
The Mistress made a small grunt inside her mouth. "Only I had made any sense of what I saw. And now, you?"  
  
"I thought I had watched too many movies last night. But it had to do with the war, I think. There were planets, and Titans."  
  
"This is most incredible. A ripple in the Allspark, a wave of premonition crashing upon the faithful. It must be no coincidence that the two of us here in Port caught the brunt of it. But that can be pondered later. If you saw the same vision then you must know the momentous message it brought."  
  
They both spoke at the same time -  
  
"Optimus Prime is alive!"  
"Megatron is still alive."  
  
\- and they fell silent as they realized the gravity of their words.  
  
"You saw Optimus Prime?"  
  
"I saw a bright light, buildings, Optimus Prime in a stasis pod. You saw Megatron?"  
  
"I saw darkness, then a desolate ruin of a vast city. Atop a mountain in the distance was a figure of pure malice with a purple standard in his hand. It could be no other."  
  
Windblade processed that for a moment. "What color was the planet? Did you see the planet you and Megatron were on?"  
  
The Mistress touched her finger to her forehead. "I was on the ground. But in the distance where the clouds didn't reach the sky was a deep blue."  
  
"That's it then!" Windblade shook the Mistress by the shoulders, decorum overcome by excitement. "I saw the planet from afar, it was blue! They must be the same place! And with the pods I saw..."  
  
The Mistress's eyes lit up. "A crash landing."  
  
At present they perceived the silence of the sanctum.  
  
"We may be the only two beings in the universe who know about this."  
  
"But why us?" Windblade asked.  
  
The Mistress gestured to bring up the light in the room, illuminating the carvings on the walls. A tall, feminine figure with a large hammer in her hand adorned the reliefs. The Mistress turned to one of the figures with a sphere wrought of radiant jewels.  
  
"Legends say that Solus Prime created the Matrix of Leadership. Through it she may be able to contact her faithful. It may be that this was a universal distress signal on behalf of the relic, and the knowledge held within."  
  
"So should we alert the Autobots that they need to be looking for a blue, potentially uninhabited planet?"  
  
The Mistress wheeled around. "No! We cannot risk the Decepticons finding out about this. If the entire Autobot fleet is out looking for Optimus Prime then the Decepticons will follow, and trillions more lives could be in the crossfire because of it."  
  
"We can't just leave the Prime - the Matrix! - sitting on some far-off planet! They can send someone to get them!"  
  
"My decision is made and I expect you to..!" She cut herself off. "No, I'm sorry... it's just... as long as the Autobots remain here, we are safe from attack. If they leave, the Decepticons will not forget about the aid we have given their enemies."  
  
Windblade fell silent. The Mistress had never shared that with her.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mistress. These last few months I've let myself be... taken by the offworlders. I envy their freedom. They travel across the Galaxy spreading hope, helping others. And that's why I became a Priestess. To help people!"  
  
The Mistress smiled. "Oh Windblade. That's nothing to be sorry for. It's my own fault. Even as Cybertron grows out to meet the universe Caminus shuts itself in. We used to have missions on Velocitron, Eukaryis, all the old colonies. I look dearly upon all my torchbearers, and I feared sending them out into the madness of this war. Maybe it's time that changed."  
  
Windblade frowned in confusion as the Mistress dimmed the lights and lead her up the stairs.  
  
"The flame of the Great War has fallen to a smolder without Optimus Prime and Megatron. Though thousands take up the fight in their name, it was they who supplied the embers. One day I will tell you what he told me, about how the war began, but until then know this: this war will never end without one of them around to end it. The Prime must be found if balance is to be restored."  
  
"But if we aren't going to tell Autobot high command -"  
  
"Then we will have to send one of our own. Someone who yearns to answer the call of the universe outside." She grinned back down at the Speaker, "someone dedicated to helping others."  
  
Windblade gasped. "Me?"  
  
"I would choose no other than my finest Speaker. Though I would not send you alone. There must be someone else we can trust."  
  
The Speaker suddenly had an idea.  
  
"I know someone who can take me."  
  
"Then Windblade of Caminus, I release you - however temporarily - from my service to undertake this most critical of missions. Go!"  
  
And as Windblade flew out of the temple for the Wharves, she realized she had heard it before; the voice in the night telling her to  _go_ , to find the Prime.


	5. Chapter 5

She found Trailcutter at the same bar stool as before, getting a head start on his midday buzz.  
  
"Trailcutter?"  
  
He turned and smiled.  
  
"Well if it isn't the City Speaker. Have another hot tip on some miscreants for me?"  
  
"Not this time. I actually wanted to talk to you in private about something."  
  
He looked at Windblade without understanding, but followed her out behind the bar.  
  
"What I'm about to tell you is top secret. Nobody - and I mean  _nobody_  - knows about this in the Autobot ranks yet."  
  
"I don't know where you're going with this, but I don't think I'm gonna like it."  
  
Windblade inhaled slowly. "I think Optimus Prime is alive, and -"  
  
All the color drained from Trailcutter's face as if he were ill. "Oh lady, don't do this."  
  
"No, you don't understand, I'm getting a ship, but I don't have a navigator, someone like you who's been out there!"  
  
 _"There's nothing out there!"_  
  
Windblade froze.  
  
"There's no Prime to come and get my sorry tailpipe off this rock, there's no adventure, there's just a lot of good people dying! I won't go chasing some naive dream."  
  
"But that's just it. We priestesses have dreams. We can see things others can't. Last night I saw your friend." She put her hand on his back. "He's out there."  
  
"And if I believe you? Why me?"  
  
"To be honest, it was the name. Cutting a trail, forging a path. But we Camiens haven't been out in space the way you have. Not in a long time. I would feel a lot better with an Autobot, present or former, to help me."  
  
"Well, you'll have to find another Autobot," he said curtly, and transformed, driving erratically off into the alleys.  
  
Windblade was disappointed, but she still had work to do. The  _Scabbard_  was back in town, and Chromia was her last shot.

* * *

 

"You're doing what?"  
  
"Remember when you asked if the Mistress would give me time off?"  
  
"When I suggested you go clear your head, I meant go to the city, or out on a wilderness retreat. Not out to some uncharted planet with magic dream comets."  
  
"The flame guides us in mysterious ways," Windblade shrugged wryly.  
  
"So can you help me? I'm sure the temple could compensate you for the time you lose fishing."  
  
"Bah, it's not that. I'd help you for free. I just... don't know where to start. I haven't been outside Camien space for so long. If we had a guide it would help."  
  
Windblade frowned. "I'm trying, but we may be on our own."  
  
Chromia looked put the window at the starships parked outside. "The universe needs the Matrix."  
  
"And the Prime who carries it."  
  
"Yeah, him too I suppose. Okay. Give me three weeks. I'll go to Forge Landing and make sure my old cruiser is ship-shape. She's probably more than a little rusty."  
  
"Take Nautica with you. You remember Nautica? She likes machines, and machine-adjacent socialization. She could help. Just keep quiet about where we're going."

* * *

  
It actually took Chromia and Nautica five weeks to get the  _Silver Dawn_  fixed up. In the intervening weeks Windblade grew more nervous about tarrying in Port, and about prying audio receptors. She met with the Mistress on two more occasions to discuss what she knew about the star charts. The Speaker poured over every map she could find, old though they were, to teach herself how to navigate.  
  
She returned to the Midnight Express later on in the month.  
  
"Midnight, have you seen Trailcutter in here recently?"  
  
The bartender shook his head. "Not in two weeks. It's rather odd. Nobody even sits in his stool."  
  
"I think it may be my fault. I hope he's okay."  
  
"Eh, a break from the juice won't kill him."  
  
Windblade held her shoulder. "Midnight, I have to tell you, I'm leaving Caminus for a while. I don't know how long. Chromia and I are going out in space."  
  
Midnight remained silent for a while.  
  
"I figured you were up to something lately."  
  
"I was going to tell you sooner but-"  
  
"But it's sensitive information right? Don't worry, my trap is shut." He jerked his head back. "I have something here for you girlie."  
  
He went back into the kitchen, and returned with a box with an incandescent ribbon around it.  
  
"How did you know I was leaving?"  
  
"I didn't. Or rather, I always knew you would eventually. It was in your nature. I just didn't know when. So I made you a little something years ago just in case. Open it up later, before you leave."  
  
"Oh Midnight, thank you."  
  
He grinned broadly. "When you come back we'll have a monument of an evening talking about all the things you saw and did. Go show 'em what a Camien looks like!"

* * *

  
On the fourth week, Windblade had a knock on her door. She was surprised to see Trailcutter standing there. He looked a great deal healthier than Windblade had ever recalled from the short time they knew one another.  
  
"Ma'am, I wanted to apologise. I said some things I regret. I wasn't ready to entertain the idea that he was still out there, that I was busy drinking my life away when I could have been doing something. So, if you'll have me, I'll be your guide to the stars."  
  
Windblade beamed at him. "We'll be leaving within the week. Pack everything you need. And thank you, Trailcutter."  
  
"Actually Ma'am, it's Trailbreaker. I just never had the heart to correct anyone."  
  
"Then actually, Trail _breaker_ , it's Windblade. If we're going to travel across the universe I won't answer to 'ma'am.'"  
  
They shook hands.

* * *

  
On her last night in Port Solare, Windblade opened the box with the white glowing ribbon. Inside was a long thin metal vessel, and a note.  
  
 _Remember that cosmic blacksmithing elective I took in our last year at uni? I made this for my final project. Top marks! Don't be afraid to show anyone the business end!_

_-ME_

* * *

  
The next morning was clear and cool, just like the day she first met Trailcutter at the bar. Chromia and Nautica had just finished refueling the ship.  
  
"Chromia, I think we did it!"  
  
"Your constant chatter saw us through. But seriously kid, I couldn't have done it without you."  
  
"Guys!" Windblade called, looking over the ship as she ran to greet her friends, "It looks great!"  
  
"And she'll fly great too. Just like old times," Chromia added. She glanced at Midnight's present hanging at Windblade's hip.  
  
A square black truck pulled up at the dock. "So this is our crew eh?" Trailbreaker said as he converted. "You must be our pilot?"  
  
Chromia looked at Windblade. "This is your navigator?" The barfly?  
  
Trailbreaker sidled up to her. "Who says I can't do both? Besides, check this out," he said showing her his forearm. "Just in case the vast reaches of space don't get me far enough from a bottle, I got a brand new inhibitor chip. I'm quitting cold astro-goose."  
  
"Are you sure you don't need me to come with you? In case of technological difficulty?" Nautica asked.  
  
Windblade laughed. "I would trust you anywhere Nautica, but you should focus on finishing school and becoming a full-fledged Quantum Mechanic. You'll show us all up before long."  
  
"Speaker!" A voice called.  
  
Windblade turned to see a small crowd gathering on the docks. A Minicon in the front was the source of the voice.  
  
"We know you're leaving on a secret mission, but we all wanted to say goodbye!"  
  
The gathered townsfolk started clapping. Windblade caught a glimpse of Midnight trying to conceal his large form around a corner, and bit back a tear.  
  
"Thank you everyone!" She turned to Chromia. "I know you and the  _Dawn_  go way back, but I was thinking, since this is such an important quest, what if we gave it a new name?"  
  
"What did you have in mind?"  
  
Windblade pulled at the scabbard at her hip and unsheathed a sword, coursing with its own violet light. A low-yield stable energon circuit flowing through an ionized plasma field. Midnight could have chosen an entirely different career.  
  
" _Stormfall_ ," Windblade declared as she held the blade above her head. The crowd behind her oohed and aahed.  
  
Chromia smiled. "Very well, my captain. We leave when you're ready."  
  
 _Captain?_  Windblade thought.  _I guess she's right._

* * *

  
From atop the Temple of the Way, the Mistress of Flame followed the glint of the  _Stormfall_  as it disappeared from sight. Those three were the hope of the universe. She hoped she had chosen correctly.  
  
She walked down to the sanctum and looked at the relief of Solus Prime on the wall. With a light rap she opened the chamber behind the image. She would do anything to protect the Way of Flame's sacred treasure, she thought as she caressed the golden hammer hidden within. It was a gamble, putting the Autobots so close to the Forge's resting place, but she was even more concerned about what the Decepticons could do with it. The sooner Optimus came back, the sooner both belligerent factions would leave her in peace.

* * *

  
Windblade watched her home surge out from under them as they gained altitude. She wasn't sure what dangers they would face out in the stars, but vowed to see the sun rise over her temple once more.  
  
When they reached the atmosphere, Trailbreaker produced a small cube from his backpack. "I nicked this from Rear Admiral Butt-Chin the last time I was in his quarters, figured it would make a nice thank-you for giving me a social complex."  
  
"You  _stole_  it?" Chromia raised her eyebrow.  
  
"He's got copies! Besides," he flicked it, opening up a holographic star map, "this is the most up to date map in the universe. Windblade, do you have our heading?"  
  
Windblade looked over the map. "Their trail ran cold at Verus Centralus. But the Autobots have already scanned the area half a dozen times. If there was any hint of where the  _Ark_  was headed, it wasn't there."  
  
"What did it look like?" asked Trailbreaker, "In your vision, I mean?"  
  
"I didn't notice the stars nearby. But the planet was a mottled blue, which..."  
  
"...Isn't especially helpful?" Chromia offered dryly.  
  
"No. That means water, and water isn't exactly in short supply across the galaxy."  
  
Windblade looked closer at the map. There were military outposts and other points of interest on it that her maps didn't have. There was Caminus, a small emblem of the Way of Flame spinning where the planet ought to be. There were other emblems all over the chart, including a large node she recognized as Cybertron. Then she saw something else she recognized. It was a red circle with a lightning bolt. The crash of the bolt that woke her from her vision echoed again in her ears.  
  
"What is that symbol?"  
  
Trailbreaker followed her finger. "That's one of the old colonies from the First Exodus. Velocitron. There's no water there, I'm afraid."  
  
"Still, I think we should start there. There was something about my vision that makes me think that planet is important."  
  
"If there's a clue on Velocitron, we'll find it! Set a course, Chromia!"  
  
" _Everyone's giving me orders on my ship_ ," she muttered, even as she punched the coordinates in.  
  
The ship's jump drive hummed and they speed off towards the Speed Planet, and the first leg in the Hunt for Optimus Prime.


End file.
